


First Snow

by Elementhyde



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Brothers, Brothers Having Fun, Fluff, Found Family, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27891538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elementhyde/pseuds/Elementhyde
Summary: prairiemule (tumblr) was a winner in my recent giveaway, she asked me to write a cute fluff piece about Arthur and John as brothers having some wintery fun, inspired by reddeadvoid‘s (tumblr) piece of Arthur and John building a snowman. Hope you enjoy.
Relationships: John Marston & Arthur Morgan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	First Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrairieMule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieMule/gifts).



John stretched deeply, shivering as the cold air slipped under his blankets. He slid out of bed, pulling the blanket with him, shoving on his boots. The weather the last couple of weeks had taken a turn, and the temperature had dropped well below freezing the last couple nights. Thankfully, Hosea and Bessie had found them an abandoned farmhouse in a valley just outside of town when they had staked it out. 

He stumbled out into the main room, plopping down in front of the fire. He pulled the blanket tightly around his body as the door opened and a rush of cold air filled the warm room. 

Dutch stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Look who’s up, those chickens aren’t gonna feed themselves, best get after it. We all earn our keep around here, boy.”

John didn’t move, sticking his feet closer to the fire. He just needed another ten minutes, it was so cold, he hated the cold, why didn’t they move south for winter? He grumbled noncommittally. He didn’t even have any good winter clothes, he had long since outgrown his last coat, and he had been too embarrassed to ask for a new one. 

“I am not gonna repeat myself, kid.” Dutch crossed the room and ripped the blanket from John’s grasp.

“It’s cold!” He whined tucking his knees to his chest. “I’ll get to it! I swear!”

Dutch pulled him to his feet. “We all got jobs we don’t want to do, now get to work.” He led John to the door.

“Dutch, at least let him get a coat.” Bessie appeared in the doorway. She held out one of Arthur’s coats. 

Dutch scowled and stopped, releasing his grip on John’s shoulder. John ran over, taking the coat from Bessie, smiling briefly as he wrapped himself in the enormous coat. Bessie smiled sweetly and cuffed the sleeves.

“We’ll get you your own coat next time we are in town.” She pointed him out the door. John sighed and turned and trudged out the door and into the cold morning. 

\-- ❖ --

He blinked against the bright morning sun, pulling his hand up to block the sun. He groaned as the white of the snow glared back at him.  _ Great. _ He stomped through the fresh powder and around the back of the house toward the small stables. The wind chilled him to the bone, and he tucked the coat tighter around his waist. 

The stables were noticeably warmer, the wind blocked by the building. He leaned over the wall of the stall, the chickens clucked, noisily gathering near the door when they saw him and he smiled. 

John moved through the stables toward the far stall where they had been keeping the tack and feed. Gathering up the feed bag he turned and ran straight into Arthur standing quietly in the doorway.

“Watch out, Marston!” Arthur said as John started to stumble back. 

John scowled up at him. “I’m feedin’ them, alright!

Arthur put his hands up. “Whoa, take it easy! What are you goin’ on about?” He reached over, grabbing a saddle from against the wall.

“I know Dutch sent you out here to make sure I was doin’ what he told me!” He pushed past Arthur and out of the stall.

“Hold on now, I have been out here all morning!” Arthur shouted after him.

John ignored him, dropping the bag heavily outside the stall with the chickens. He heard Arthur’s footsteps approaching but refused to acknowledge him, turning to coo at the chickens, shooing them back from the door with his boot as he entered. The chickens scattered, clucking grumpily as he dragged the bag in behind him, the coat making the bag ungainly.

Arthur grabbed the bag and dropped it on the other side of the stall, John spun around and scowled at Arthur.

“I had it! This is  _ MY _ job, I can do it!” He snarled.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t! Settle down, kid. I was just trying to help.” He picked up the saddle and stormed off.

Arthur threw open the door harder than he intentioned to.  _ What was up with that kid?  _ He dropped the saddle next to The Count, the crotchety horse was Dutch’s new project. Though really it had fallen to Arthur to care for the stubborn and mean creature. 

The horse eyed him as he pulled a brush from the tack. His voice was gentle and movements slow, the last bite had just finally healed up and he wasn’t up for another. 

“All right now, neither of us like this, but let’s just get it over with and I’ll leave you alone.” He held his hands up showing the horse the brush. 

The Count huffed and settled as Arthur brushed him down, draping the blanket over him before fitting the saddle, he tightened the billet and ran his hand up the horse’s flank to let him know he was done, giving him a firm pat. Arthur reached for the reigns, leading the grumpy stallion back toward the house. 

He hitched The Count up near the porch and continued toward the door, pausing briefly when he heard the muffled conversation coming from inside.

“I know he needs to learn to do what he’s told, but couldn’t you have let him get some food before sending him out in the cold, Dutch?”

“We all have to earn our keep, Ms. Matthews, and it’s high time John learned that.”

“‘And you catch more flies with honey’ is all I’m sayin, Dutch. The boy sees how differently you treat him from Arthur.”

There was a heavy silence, where Arthur could only imagine Dutch’s face, knowing that Bessie had won the argument. 

“Where is that boy’s coat? I saw you hand him one of Arthur’s.” He changed the subject.

“He outgrew it.” She answered patiently. “Boys will do that. We’ll get him one next time we are in town.”

“All the more reason he should keep up on his chorin’, he costs us more money in clothes…” 

Arthur felt for the kid, his anger earlier starting to make sense. Of course he would think that Dutch sent him to check on John. 

“Dutch…” Bessie sighed, aggravation filled her voice. “You know what I--” 

He stomped his boots heavily against the floor before roughly grabbing the door handle and pushing open the door

“Got The Count all saddled up for ya Dutch, where ya headin’?” He called a bit more loudly than necessary, glancing between Bessie and Dutch and feigning a look of surprise, he closed the door behind him. “Oh! Morning, Mrs. Matthews!”

“Arthur, how are you this morning?” She smiled, tightly.

Dutch picked his coat up off the back of the chair and turned toward the door. “Thanks Arthur. I’m just going to ingratiate myself to the neighbors.” He pulled his coat on and pulled open the door. 

“Arthur, make sure John gets his work done. Boy needs to learn about earning his keep.” He closed the door without waiting for an answer.

Bessie’s smile vanished as the door closed. “You don’t need to do that, Arthur.” She picked up some of the firewood from near the door and carried them into the small kitchen, continuing to mutter under her breath.

Arthur hesitated to follow her, but eventually found his way to the kitchen. “Something wrong?”

Bessie sighed, pushing the anger back. It wasn’t Arthur’s fault, or his responsibility; she turned around to face him, the warm smile from earlier returned. 

“Oh, no darling.” She moved toward the small stove dropping the wood beside the stove. “Dutch and I were just talking.”

Arthur gave her a knowing look. “You know, that is one of my favorite coats...” Her smile didn’t falter, and he reached past her taking the percolator from the stove.

“John is takin’ care of the chickens.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “He made sure to tell me.”

Bessie moved to the small table and took a seat. “Dutch is pushing him too hard. The boy needs time to be a kid, he hasn’t even eaten today!”

Arthur cradled the warm cup in his hands, looking out the window, the fresh white snow, the first of the season. “Does he have any warm clothes left?” 

He took a sip from his cup, watching as John pushed his way through the snow back to the house holding a basket above his head, the oversized coat making it a slow process.

“I doubt it, but you know that boy. You’d swear he was allergic to being clean. So it’s hard to tell what clothes he has other than the ones he wears for days at a time.” Arthur chuckled.

John hated winter and Arthur couldn’t imagine how much more insufferable he was going to be without warm clothing. He turned back to Bessie.

“Hosea asked me to go to town today and look around, since it looks like we may be here for a bit.” He gestured out the window at the new snow. “I can take John to get some new warmer clothes.”

The door pushed open and John stumbled into the main room. He grumbled and kicked the door closed, Bessie and Arthur turning to look at him. He fumbled his way out of the coat and stomped into the kitchen, putting the basket on the table.

“Oh thank you, John!” She pushed up from the table, moving to get John some warm coffee, she placed the cup in front of him. “Can I get you something to eat?”

John wrapped his hands around the warm cup, the feeling slowly returning to his fingers. The kitchen was warm and he felt himself begin to thaw. Bessie didn’t wait for an answer, sliding a plate with some cornbread and jerky toward him. Arthur finished up his coffee and snuck out of the kitchen, disappearing to their room.

John muttered a thanks and pulled the plate closer. Bessie smiled, moving around the kitchen to start getting things ready for dinner. John picked at his food, eating slowly while he warmed up.

“John, can you throw another log into the stove?” Bessie called over her shoulder as she chopped vegetables.

“Sure, Mrs. Matthews.” He pushed back from the table and pulled open the door, picking up a log from the floor he loaded it into the stove. 

He stood with the door open longer than he needed to, the heat from the flames felt good on his face, finally feeling his nose for the first time since he woke up. He closed his eyes, taking in as much of the heat as he could without getting yelled at. He heard Arthur’s boots and opened his eyes, closing the stove door and taking his seat back at the table he picked at the cornbread.

“John, go get that coat.” Arthur said from the doorway and John groaned.

“C’mon, Arthur! I just got warm!” John whined. 

“Go on now, John.” Bessie called over her shoulder. John opened his mouth to argue, but just sighed and got up, muttering to himself.

Arthur leaned against the doorframe, watching as John picked up the coat, pulling it tight around his waist.

“Put your gun belt around the outside, it’ll keep the coat in place.” Arthur held out a belt to John.

“Where we goin’?” John took the belt and cinched it around his waist. The coat making him look like a stuffed toy.

“Town. Hosea asked me to take a look around. Thought we could get you some warmer clothes.” He grabbed a pair of gloves from his satchel and handed them over to John. “I’m only lending you that coat, I  _ want  _ it back.” 

John took the gloves and looked up at Arthur, who pushed off the door frame and made his way out the door.

John closed the door and followed Arthur out into the snow and back toward the stables. Keeping in Arthur’s path made the walk easier than it had been carving his own path and he quickly caught up as Arthur 

“Why are you bein’ nice to me?” John asked as Arthur pulled the tack from the store room. 

“What are you on about? Grab Cassidy so we can get her saddled up.” John rolled his eyes and did as he was told, convincing the young mare out with a carrot.

Arthur saddled Cassidy and pulled himself up onto the horse, offering a hand up to John. Scrunching his nose he accepted Arthur’s hand and pulled himself onto the back of the horse. He wished that they would let him get his own horse. He really hated having to ride with someone else, usually Arthur, though today he couldn’t complain as a brisk wind channeled between the buildings and over the boys.

John shivered and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist. Arthur glanced quickly over his shoulder and clicked his tongue, spurring Cassidy toward town.

The ride to town took about an hour, slowed by the snow. Arthur felt John press closer to him as time went on, looking for any warmth he could get, his face pressed against Arthur’s shoulder to shield him from the wind. 

Arthur cleared his throat as the town came into view, rolling his shoulder to get John’s attention.

“We are almost to town.” He felt John stir on his back, had the kid been asleep? “John.”

“What?” Came the gruff reply.  _ Yup, definitely asleep. _

“We’re almost to town, we got a job to do.” 

“I thought we were in town to get me some clothes.” John grumbled. 

“Relax, we’re just keepin’ our nose to the ground and lookin’ for work. We’re probably gonna be here all winter if this weather keeps up.”

John groaned loudly and let his head fall into Arthur’s back. He had hoped once the storm passed they would keep moving south. Arthur chuckled and shook his head.

“I thought you wanted to be more involved in the work?” He glanced back over his shoulder at John, who shot him a look. “You know, you wouldn’t be so cold if you would actually eat instead of pushing your food around.”

John bit back a response looking down into his lap and Arthur continued.

“We can get you something else while we are out.” John looked back up at Arthur warily, Arthur sighed. “Kid, this ain’t some elaborate scheme by Dutch. You needed new clothes, I was goin’ to town on Hosea’s request, I took you with me.”

The rest of the ride into town was quiet. They hitched the horse outside the local general store and walked inside. John wandered around the store as Arthur spoke with the shopkeeper.

“We just moved out this way, been traveling for the past couple months and the weather finally made us settle in for a while.” John caught pieces of the conversation as he looked at all the items lining the shelves. 

He glanced over at the men as they spoke, both fully engrossed in the conversation. He quickly looked around the store, empty, and reached up pulling a can of pears from the shelf he tucked it into the sleeve of his coat. He pocketed a few other small things as he walked through the store, finding a small stockman knife he slid it into his pocket before Arthur called out.

“John, come look at these coats.”

John jumped but made his way over to the counter. The shopkeeper had laid out a number of coats on the counter and was in the process of explaining each of them to Arthur.

“We got all kinds, this one is a hunter’s jacket, lightweight and waterproof, great for everyday use.” He held up a nice leather jacket, lined with what looked like a thick flannel material.

“I think the kid is gonna need something a bit warmer.” Arthur said, looking down at John, whose eyes were locked on a scout jacket lined with fox, perhaps? 

He reached past John and picked it up off the counter. It was thick, nice and warm, albeit a tad big for him, but he had grown like a weed over the summer, so he probably wasn’t due for another growth spurt for a while. Especially if he didn’t eat more. He watched John’s eyes follow his movements as he inspected it.

“Why don’t you go try this one on.” He said to John before looking up at the shopkeeper. “You got someplace he can do that?”

“Oh, sure. Right back here. C’mon son!” The man turned and moved back toward the far corner of the store. John turned to follow and Arthur caught his arm.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you stuffing that shit in ya coat. Best make sure he don’t catch you.” He hissed, releasing John’s arm. 

John scampered after the clerk and thanked him as he opened a door to a small changing room with a mirror. Arthur sighed and continued to look through the store while he waited for John, picking up a pair of thick gloves and tossing them onto the counter along with a couple other things. He called out to the clerk, who was waiting patiently by the changing room for John.

“Ya’ll got any sweaters? Thicker the better. The kid is skin and bones.” The man chuckled and met Arthur back near the register, pointing to the far wall.

“Sure, those are pretty popular with the farmers round here when they gotta work out in the snow.”

Arthur pulled a black sweater from the pile, the fabric was soft and he walked to the dressing room door. Knocking once.

“John, put this on too, it’ll keep you warm.” 

The door opened and Arthur saw John’s grin through the crack, the jacket wrapped around him, definitely a bit too big, but a much better fit. “Looks good on ya. You best take care of it, I ain’t gonna buy you another.”

John rolled his eyes and took the sweater, closing the door. Arthur did the rest of the shopping and paid the clerk, telling him that it was likely John would wear the coat and sweater out. 

The dressing room door opened and John emerged, Arthur’s coat rolled up and tucked beneath his arm, the stolen goods wrapped tightly inside. He appeared next to Arthur’s elbow as he handed the clerk the cash. He turned to John and motioned for him to grab some of the items, slapping the new gloves into his chest. John scooped the rest of the items into his arms and jogged after Arthur. 

The town’s main drag was busy as the boys loaded the items into Cassidy’s saddlebags. John draped Arthur’s coat over Cassidy’s back, his ear catching the conversation of two of the bank guards. The men speaking low, but ignoring the young man as he inched farther from the mare’s side and closer to them.

“Yeah, it’s due in some time next week, so they got me working late for the arrival. My wife ain’t gonna be too happy about that.” One of the men said.

“With the size of that drive that left a couple days ago it’s gotta be a good bit of money.” The other poised.

“I heard it’s the biggest sale this town’s ever seen.”

The second guard whistled. “Damn. How many guards they got, could they use another?”

“Not too many, don’t want to draw no unnecessary attention.” 

“Well, shit.”

Arthur’s eyes drifted toward the saloon, good a place as any to get the taste of the town. 

“Johnny, you hungry?” His words falling on deaf ears. 

Arthur looked down to see John as he inched away, quickly glancing toward the men before he went back to packing Cassidy up. He turned and headed off toward the saloon, he’d let John trail that lead on his own.

\-- ❖ --

There weren’t a lot of people in the saloon, as Arthur pushed through the door. But he moved to the bar, ordering some food and a drink and settling down in a small table near the door. He sipped his beer, keeping an eye on John. 

John moved to the side of the bank and off into an alley, sticking close to the wall and out of the men’s view. He glanced back to Cassidy and then down the street, panic set in briefly. Before he saw Arthur wave at him from the saloon window.

He jogged across the way and joined Arthur inside, sliding into the chair across from him. The excitement apparent on his face.

“Arthur! I think I got something! There’s a stage coming to town.”

“What of it?” Arthur took a bite from his stew.

“They said it was a payout for some big cattle sale. S’posta be a lotta cash!” He looked down at Arthur’s food.

“Huh. Good job, kid! Hosea will be happy to hear that! When they expected through?”

“Next week.” 

“Not bad.” He took another sip from his beer. “You hungry?” 

John nodded. “What are you eating?”

“Stew. Ain’t bad.”   
  
“Yeah, but you’ll eat anything.” John deadpanned and Arthur shot him a dirty look.

“Just get yourself some food and get back here.” He waved John off who scampered toward the bar to order food.

Arthur finished off his stew and nursed his beer, trying to listen in to the conversation going on at the poker table. The men complained about the usual things, their home life, work, nothing of note. Arthur sighed and settled in, catching a few more curious bits of information about the town.

John sat down heavily at the table with a bowl of stew, wasting no time digging in. He felt the warmth of the stew settle in his stomach, it had been a long time since he had tasted anything this good. He shoveled another spoonful into his mouth. Arthur took another sip from his beer, looking over at John.

“I don’t think there is gonna be much more here today.” He leaned back in the chair, draining the rest of his beer. “How’s your food?”

John took another big bite.

“Guess that answers that.” He pushed up from the table and headed for the door. “Meet me outside when you’re done.” John shot Arthur a thumbs up.

“There’s my girl.” Arthur cooed as he walked up to Cassidy, pulling the reins from the post. He lead her closer to the water trough and pulled a brush from her saddlebag, he cleaned the loose snow and frost from her coat as she drank

“I put your coat and gloves in her saddlebag.” John said as he approached. “Thanks…for getting this stuff for me.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “And sorry, you know, for this mornin’.”

Arthur gave Cassidy a pat and put the brush away. “Don’t worry about it. C’mon, let’s head back.” 

“You find out anything?” John asked as Arthur pulled himself into the saddle and turned to offer John a hand.

“Not much, seems like a pretty normal town, my guess is that stage you heard about is the most excitin’ thing going on ‘round here.”

Arthur directed them out of town and back toward the house. The afternoon sun had warmed the air, but the wind was an ever present reminder of the frigid temperature. They weren’t going home empty handed, but it wasn’t thanks to Arthur. John had really been a big help today. Bessie’s words echoed through his mind. 

_ Dutch is pushing him too hard. The boy needs time to be a kid. _

“Hey, why don’t we see how well those clothes work.”

John looked up from the small knife he fiddled with in his lap, the trip back was going quicker, the snow packed down a bit more with the traffic from the day.

“What ya mean?” 

“I don’t know, we ain’t gotta be back ‘til dinner, thought we could build a snowman or somethin’” Arthur threw his hand up. “It’s just, the last couple months have been a lot on us all, why not just try and have some fun or somethin’.”

John eyed him warily. Arthur never wanted to spend time with him normally, he swore that Arthur spent as much time keepin’ busy to avoid having to spend time with him.

“ _ ‘Have some fun or somethin’?’ _ You don’t have  _ fun _ . “

“Ha. Ha.” Arthur growled. “Fine, be a bastard, but it ain’t my turn to chop firewood when we get back.”

Arthur pulled Cassidy off the road and jumped down, the snow was undisturbed here and he scooped up a handful. John didn’t have time to react before the snowball hit him in the face and he yelped.

Arthur laughed and grabbed another handful of snow before he took off running. 

“What the hell, Arthur! I’m going to kill you.” John growled, jumping down from Cassidy he took off after him. Another snowball came flying at him, hitting him in the shoulder. 

“Lighten up, Johnny.” Arthur called from behind a nearby tree. 

John ran after him, wiping the snow from his face with the back of hand. He bent over and scooped up a handful of snow before hurling at the tree. 

“Get out here!” John screamed, picking up another handful and throwing it at the tree. 

“Where is the fun in that?” Arthur called, lobbing another snowball at John before turning and running further into the trees. John ducked out of the way and hurtled his snowball after Arthur, landing a blow on his back as he ran.

“HA!” John screamed, gathering up more snow and chasing after Arthur. Another three snowballs landed around Arthur as he ran, he ducked behind another tree pulling together a large snowball. He peeked out to see if he had a shot only to find John gone.

He gathered more snow into his hands forming a small pile of snowballs and he waited for John to make his move. The silence settled in again to the trees, the only sound the birds calling to each other, wait there was another sound, a soft crunching. He spun around too late as John launched his attack, throwing his body into Arthur’s and knocking him off balance and into the snow.

Their laughter echoed through the trees as Arthur got to his feet, holding a hand out for John.

“Ya got me!” He laughed. He brushed the soft snow from his shoulders and pants. “See, the snow ain’t that bad.” 

John huffed, but knew Arthur was right. He had been having fun, too much to even mind the cold. Arthur nudged his shoulder.

“Ever build a snowman? The snow’s about right for it.” 

“No, that’s baby stuff!” John 

He picked up a handful and formed another small snowball, which caused John to jump back defensively and reach for a handful of his own snow.

“How would you know if you ain’t ever tried it?” He dropped his snowball into the snow and crouched down, rolling it in small circles. 

John watched him warily. The small snowball getting larger and larger the more Arthur rolled it. He looked up at John, the snowball still clutched in his hand. 

“It’s gonna melt too much to stick if you hold it too long.” Arthur motioned to his hand. “Like this.” Arthur pushed the much larger ball around in the snow, making sure to keep it even.

John looked at the snowball in his hand then back to Arthur who had moved to rolling the melon sized ball around in the small clearing and dropped the ball into the snow. 

It had been a long time since he had seen Arthur this care-free, no sour face or stern voice, not since the last time he had come home from seeing Mary. There was nothing for him to prove here, he could be himself.

He rolled the snowball around a bit with his boot watching it pick up layers of snow, an ever growing lumpy ball. He crouched down and moved the snowball in small circles with his hands, trying to fix the lumps. 

Arthur rolled the large snowball into the middle of the clearing, standing up he judged it to be a good size for a base. He turned to check on John who was rolling the snowy mass between his legs through the snow.

“Now you got it goin’!” He crossed the clearing and dropped down near the base of a tree, digging through the snow, plucking small sticks and rocks from beneath the snow and stashing them in his pocket.

“Just a bit more and that’ll be a good size for the head.” He stood up. “Bring it over here.” He walked back toward the clearing, picking up a handful of snow, cupping it together he dropped it onto the ground and began rolling out the body of the snowman.

John tried to pat down the lumpy spots as he scooped the pumpkin sized snowball into his arms. Carrying it carefully toward the center of the clearing he stopped to watch Arthur rolling a second ball. 

“How come yours don’t get all lumpy?” 

“You gotta be real careful when you roll them that it’s all even. C’mere, I’ll show ya.” Arthur took a step back as John placed the head on the ground. 

“When it’s small, it’s easy to keep it even, because you can roll it around in a circle and it’ll pick up the snow pretty evenly, but once it gets bigger, you gotta be a lot more careful when you’re rolling it that the layer stays pretty even, if it isn’t, you can pat the lumps down with your hand as you go.” He motioned for John to take over. 

Carefully guided by Arthur’s instruction John finished up the midsection of the snowman, as perfect and round as the base Arthur had made.

“Great! Now let’s get this guy assembled!” Arthur clapped John on the back. “Get the head! I’ll grab the middle.” 

Arthur grunted, hefting the middle piece up onto the base, he took a step back to make sure everything lined up. Satisfied with his work he motioned for John to put the head on top.

“Well, hard part is done, but now we gotta decide.” Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets, pulling out the small stones and sticks he had picked up earlier. “Who we gonna make it look like?”

John thought for a moment, looking at the snowman with his big lumpy head, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Dutch. Let’s make it look like Dutch, he’s always wantin’ to be famous.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I really like to write the brothers getting to bond and know each other. The number of side journeys I took with way too much backstory for this is a nightmare, but the idea of worldbuilding out the pre-gang stuff is just so much fun. For reference, in this story Arthur is about 25 and John is 15ish


End file.
